Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word
by FicAddy
Summary: Inspired by prompt. Drizzle/Beth breaks up Rachel and Quinn. Quinn blames Rachel  and Beth in this story . Beth regrets what she's done and wants her family back. Read inside for more info on the prompt. No copyright infringement intended. Just borrowing!
1. Rachel

Okay, so this prompt:

Pre-teen!Drizzle successfully breaks up Rachel and Quinn because she wants a normal family. Quinn blames Rachel for the split, Rachel is depressed her daughter doesn't want her and Drizzle regrets everything and is desperate to get her family back. Must include Broadway-Star!Rachel

I stole this off of another writer's post, but forgot where and I have no idea whose prompt it is. So if it's yours and you're reading this, let me know and I'll credit you. Also, this is my first Quinn/Rachel fic so, be nice? Please?

The first chapter are pretty short. They´re more an introduction than anything else. And I should warn you, I´m not the fastest updater... Hope you enjoy anyway!

**Rachel's POV**

New York, 2022

Being short, or vertically challenged as she likes to put it herself, has never really been a problem. No, really, it hasn't. But then she goes and moves to New York and becomes aware of how infuriatingly annoying it is to not be able to see over a crowd. Or how, in the hustle and bustle of the streets of her beloved Big Apple, people barely seem to notice her. It makes it a lot harder to get people to move out of the way and she needs them to move out of her way! Like now!

Rachel Berry is late. Not just a little late, but a lot late and that just won't do! It doesn't matter that she knows everyone will wait for her to arrive. It doesn't matter that she's the star of the show and she can pretty much come and go as she pleases. What matters is that she always, _always_, strives for perfection and being late surely isn't within the margins she's set for herself.

It's like high school all over again. Back then it was all about a perfect attendance record, perfect grades, the perfect song choice and choreography, the perfect boyfriend and ultimately, the perfect girlfriend. Momentarily faltering in her step, her stomach clenches and her heart misses a couple of beats when the last thought lingers.

'_Not now, Berry! There'll be enough time later tonight to wallow in what once was and never will be again'_, she reminds herself while unapologetically pushing people out of her way until she finally makes it to the theater.

Glancing up at the marquee, a feeling of pride engulfs her, watching the giant picture of herself up there, her name written underneath it in giant letters. She's the one attracting the audience, the one people come to see and hear. She's living her dream and for now, the feeling that comes with it is enough to drown out all the others. She knows it's only temporary. Knows that every emotion she's been trying to hide will make an appearance once she leaves the stage tonight.

She'll go back to an empty apartment. She will sit on her couch, the one that's too big for just her, too cold to be comfortable. She will pour herself a drink, a stiff one, to numb herself for what she knows is about to come. She'll open one of her dresser drawers and take out a photo album she's been leafing through too many times. And then she'll cry, fix herself another drink before crying some more. She already knows she will wake up tomorrow on that too cold, uncomfortable couch with a sore back and a familiar headache. And then she'll do it all over again, like she's in some kind of twisted remake of Groundhog Day.

But she knows that she's doing the right thing. She's convinced that leaving was the only choice she had. She's convinced that, had she stayed, she would've made all of their lives even more miserable. And all she wants is for them to be happy. It's all she's ever wanted. Of course, she'd always figured that they would be happy together. The three of them against the world, or something like that, and dreams of maybe one day adding to their family, completing it.

They're all she has left now. Dreams of a loving family have replaced her dreams of being the brightest star to ever shine on Broadway. Now that's she's living her childhood dream, she can't help but think what a nightmare it's turning out to be.

But she still knows it's the right to do. To live her life away from her family. After _that_ particular night, she'd been without choice. And so she left.


	2. Quinn

Thank you to all of you who've reviewed and/or added me to your alerts. Another short chapter. The one after this will be a bit longer and after that I hope to bring you real chapters! Enjoy!

**Quinn's POV**

Lima, 2022

She's really trying. She's trying _so damn_ hard, but she can't help herself. Even after fourteen months and sixteen days, she's still trying to forgive her daughter. Trying to forgive her for being selfish, for being the reason she will never get to live out her happily ever after. For chasing away the person who loved her, the both of them, more than anything else in the world. The one person who sacrificed her own happiness, firmly believing it would be best to do what their daughter had asked, or rather, _demanded_, and leave.

So she's really trying and some days she's convinced that she's finally reached the point at which she can tell Beth she's been forgiven. But then a door slams and she hears the excited chatter of her pre-teen, the one who's a spitting image of herself at that age, and she can't help but feel betrayed and cheated all over again. Because her daughter is acting like nothing happened. Is her usual chipper self. As if she hadn't been the one responsible for single handedly dismantling the home they had tried so hard to fill with love and warmth and security. Everything has been shot to hell and Quinn can't help but hold her daughter responsible, for at least part of it.

Rachel leaving had been Rachel's choice. Quinn had been convinced things would settle down after a while, that it was just a phase Beth was going through. She'd suggested counseling, for herself and Rachel as a couple as well as for the three of them together, but Beth wouldn't budge. Things had gotten out of hand after that, ending in a disastrous 'final conflict'.

Quinn can't help but cringe at the memory. Already she can feel the telltale burn of tears forming in the corners of her eyes as well as the heat of shame reddening her cheeks. She'd hit her daughter. And even though it has been only that one time and the circumstances had been extreme, it went completely against every promise she'd ever made to her little girl.

After that night, Rachel's mind had been made up. Her desperate pleading with both Rachel and Beth to talk it out had fallen on deaf ears. Within hours bags were packed, a cab was called and Rachel was gone. She didn't even get to sleep in her lover's arms for just one more night.

So she just sits here, at the kitchen table, waiting for her daughter to come home. Waiting with tea and biscuits like any good mom does. But she doesn't feel like a good mom right now. Hasn't felt like that in almost fifteen months. Because, while she loves her daughter to death, she can't help but admit she doesn't like her very much right now.

Same goes with Rachel. Quinn is still convinced they would've been able to work it out. That they would've been able to make Beth see how _unique_ a family they really had. A family built with bricks of love and trust and honesty. To point out the broken homes around them, how many of her daughter's friends came from said broken homes and how _rare_ it was that people actually chose to stay together out of love, for _wanting_ to be together, instead of using their children as the glue to keep their families together.

So, yes, she's angry. With her daughter and her ex-wife and with herself most of all. Because Quinn thinks that her daughter _should_ feel remorse for irreparably fucking up their lives. Thinks that Rachel had been just a _tad_ to eager to walk away from them. Thinks she herself should've tried harder to stop their lives from unraveling. But she didn't.


	3. Beth

Fair warning: don't get used to me posting three times a day. Just wanted to get all the girl's pov's out there.  
And another thank you to those of you who took the time to review. It's very much appreciated!

So, here's Beth's point of view. I'd really like to hear what your thoughts are.

* * *

**Beth's POV**

Lima, 2022

After slamming the front door shut with a loud bang, she drops her backpack in front of the couch and makes her way to the kitchen. All the while, she is rambling about things happening in school today, knowing her Mom can hear her. Knowing she's sitting at the kitchen table, just like she always is, even after everything.

She also knows her mother is still hurting. That she won't stop hurting for a long time to come. If ever. She knows she herself is the one to blame, but even knowing that, she just doesn't know what to do to about it. The consequences of her actions are visible every day. It's as if they're screaming at her from every nook of the house. The empty mantelshelf, where _her_ awards used to be on proud display, remains mockingly empty. As if her mother wants to remind her every day of how much of a screw-up she is and, truthfully, she has every right.

Nothing is as it should've been. This is not the way she figured things would be like after _she_ left. She wanted normal, but what she got instead was anything _but_ normal. Her mother crying, still so often, in the shower or her bedroom late at night, is not normal. The heated phone conversations, the fights she overhears, are not normal. Coming back to a house that's no longer warm and secure is not normal. She just doesn't know what to do about it.

She should apologize, but doesn't know how to. She's afraid there won't be enough words in the dictionary to relay exactly how she feels about what's she's done. Because it's not just her Mom that's hurting. Beth is hurting too, _so_ much. She wishes she'd known beforehand how much it would hurt. It would've changed everything.

It's only since Rachel has left that she knows who made the house come alive. Without the energy, seemingly bursting from the dark haired singer, everything looks and feels different around her. It's like everything's covered in a layer of dust and she'd give everything to have the shine return to their home, knowing that Rachel's the only one who'll be able to bring it back.

Beth remembers now. How it used to be. Not the past year or the months prior to that, but the years before that, when everything was as it should be. When Quinn was Mom and Rachel was Momma and Beth was Drizzle. It's been a long time since anyone's called her Drizzle. She misses how much she used to hate it when her parents called her that.

She misses the warm hugs and the laughs. She can even admit to missing the palpable chemistry between her Mom and her Mo … Rachel. Being as young as she is, she now recognizes how both women seemed to thrive in each other's presence. Always touching, however briefly, or showering each other with heartfelt compliments or whispered encouragements. And both so passionate and stubborn in their arguments, it almost made the air crackle with electricity. And she misses _that_ too.

The last argument they had, in Beth's presence that is, was the night their life together was coming to an end. After months of arguing between the three of them, it had come down to a bend or break situation. Thanks to Beth, the outcome had been a break of epic proportions.

Shuffling towards the kitchen, she braces herself. Squares her shoulders, takes a couple of deep breaths and forces herself to smile even though it physically hurts to. She feels armored now. Against her mother's obvious pain and the fake smile so much her own. Upon entering the kitchen, their eyes meet and weary hello's are exchanged as well as those halfhearted smiles. Beth feels like crying and senses her mother isn't faring any better, because too soon her mom's gaze shifts away from her and locks onto the chipped surface of the kitchen table, as she seemingly drifts off into her mind. Beth doesn't blame her. The memories are so much better than this screwed up reality. She just wishes she could tell her Mom that she feels the same way. That she remembers how it used to be and how much she wishes she can go back in time and undo all of the hurtful, hateful things she's said and done. But she doesn't dare broach the subject in fear of her Mom telling her to learn and live with it because she has no one to blame but herself. And Beth knows that it's true. Knows that her Mom knows it too.

So they talk about school and work and the weather, while drinking tea and crumbling biscuits with trembling fingers. They don't talk about Rachel and they don't talk about what happened. They just sit there and pretend everything's okay, until Beth feels the walls of the kitchen closing in on her and says she should start on her homework or until her Mom insists that she really should start dinner. And then the tension breaks, if only for a little while, only to return as soon as mother and daughter are in the same room again. It's like they're complete strangers living in the same house and the feeling is making Beth sick to her stomach. Literally. She knows her Mom loves her more than anything, but she also knows she's not been forgiven. Not just yet.


	4. The Fight

**So, it's here. The Fight. Yes, both word deserve CAPS. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

Lima, 2021 - The Fight

Their daughter's face is contorted in something akin to hatred, but Quinn refuses to believe that her daughter is capable of feeling that particular emotion towards either her or Rachel. Her little girl is bordering on hysterical now and great heaving sobs make it difficult for the pre-teen to breathe properly. And all Quinn wants to do right then is take her in her arms and try to hug her pain away, but she knows the gesture will not be welcomed.

A few feet away from her, Rachel is of the same mind. Everything inside of her is screaming to sweep her daughter up into her arms, hold her close to her heart, telling her that everything is going to be okay. But Rachel knows that she no longer has that privilege. Beth is very clear on who's to blame for the situation they're in and it breaks her heart to know she's the one being held responsible.

Looking back on her own teen years, she can - sort of - understand where Beth's coming from. Being the kid of a gay couple is a sure way to put one at a social disadvantage in a small town such as Lima, Ohio. And Rachel can relate to that. But she also remembers how she used to defend her dads. How she always tried - and still tries - to make people think and see beyond the label. Never once has she blamed her parents for being different, though she'll admit to wishing for a mother when certain occasions of a decidedly more female nature arose throughout her teens. But she'd never been ashamed of her family the way Beth seems to be of theirs right now.

And Rachel doesn't get why it's a problem _now_, when it never seemed to be one before. They're not doing anything differently than any other couple in town. Beth brings friends over and they all seem to like spending time at the Fabray/Berry residence, after the initial awkwardness from years of indoctrination fades, of course. She's almost certain something must've happened to make Beth lash out at her like this, but she's asked once and the only answer she'd received had been a rather convincing imitation of Quinn's legendary HBIC-glare. Convincing enough to never ask again.

Desperation is clearly written in Quinn's eyes. In fact, her whole demeanor screams hopelessness. Even though she's the one who keeps fighting Beth, trying to make her see reason, she knows her daughter well enough she's not going to budge anytime soon. Too much like her Mom, after all.

They've tried everything they can think of to make Beth see the light. They try to explain that love is thicker than blood, that it doesn't matter what other people think. That they're certain that, when those people could have only a fraction of what they have between them, they would certainly be envious. But Beth doesn't see it. Doesn't _want_ to see it. And it seems the more her parents are trying to get through to her, the more Beth seems to rebel.

Every night ends in tears and accusations and Quinn isn't sure how long she's going to be able to go on like this. The house feels like a war zone and every undertaking feels like a battle. And out of the three of them, Beth seems to be winning the war. Cracks are starting to appear in Rachel and Quinn's defense and Beth knows it. Toys with it. Knows that she only has to push just that much harder to make it come tumbling down and take advantage of it.

Because of Rachel's obvious guilt over the situation, it's easy to manipulate her. Her Mom seems able to emotionally deflect her daughter's harsh words, but Beth can practically feel every syllable she spits out bury itself into Rachel's gut like a meat cleaver. With every taunt, with every unreasonable plea, Beth knows she's one step closer to her goal. Because if there's one thing she can count on in this world, it's Rachel's determination to do whatever it takes to make her family happy.

"Why can't we be a _normal_ family?", a desperate Beth cries out.

"Why can't you just be with Daddy? At least I wouldn't have to put up with everyone laughing at me and calling me names! I don't understand why you're doing this to me!"

Same story, different day. Hearing the same lines over and over again, Quinn can't help but feel exasperated. She's so _goddamn _tired of fighting every day, she's almost ready to just give in and give up. But then she looks at her wife, the woman she's still so very much in love with, and the thought alone, of letting her go, is enough to almost drive her crazy. So she takes deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for going another round against her daughter.

"Beth, we don't know what to do to make it easier for you", Quinn tries in a soothing voice. She wants to say more, but a scoffing Beth cuts her off.

"Yes, you do! I don't understand why it's such a hard concept to grasp that I want a _real_ family! Or would you rather have me write a thousand-word essay on the subject. Pro and con list? Oh! I know! How about a PowerPoint presentation. Would that make it any clearer?", the pre-teen sneers derisively, arms folded tightly over her chest.

And the way she says it, the words she's using and even her stance are so typically Rachel that it makes Quinn want to cry. How can Beth neither see nor feel that she's just a much Rachel's kid as she is Quinn's?

"Beth, _please_", Quinn tries again. "We've talked about this. You can't honestly expect your Momma and me to split up just because you want us to."

The shade of Beth's eyes turns even darker and before Quinn can brace herself, her daughter goes for another blow under the belt.

"_Don't_ call her that!", the girl hisses. "_She_ is _not_ my mother!"

Quinn feels her body recoil as if she's been physically hit. Hears Rachel anguished gasp and knows her wife felt that verbal punch as hard - if not harder - as she herself did. She can honestly say that she's never been this angry with Beth. Even after all the hurtful words that have been coming out of her daughter's mouth in the past few weeks, this is so unexpected and so intentionally meant to tear Rachel apart, that she's starting to see red. She's had it with this kid's attitude towards them.

"How can you _say_ that?", Quinn seethes. "_She_ is the woman who helped raise you! _She _is the one who kissed away the pain from your scrapes and bruises when you fell off your bike! _She_ is the one whom you wouldn't let go of on your first day of kindergarten! The one who's been home for the past five weeks while she should've been on stage, _working_, so _you_ can live your life in luxury. So _you_ can have everything your _selfish_ little heart desires!"

It isn't until she's pausing for the sake of oxygen, that she notices that she's crying. And shaking. Every muscle in her body is coiled so tightly, she's surprised she can even move at this point. She hears Rachel's quiet sobs from somewhere close behind her, but her attention is focused solely on her daughter.

From the looks of it, Quinn has managed to impress her little blond offspring into silence. Big round eyes are staring at her in surprise, because the HBIC that will always be part of Quinn Fabray has never made an appearance around Beth. Until now, that is.

Quinn takes advantage of the stunned silence. Wants to finally get out all those thoughts and feelings she's had over the past weeks. And she's aware she's so angry she's practically foaming at the mouth, but it doesn't stop her. Because _no one _gets away with purposely hurting her wife. Not even her own daughter.

She takes a couple of steps forward, towards a still slightly shocked Beth. Quinn's so close to her now, that the girl has to look up to her to meet her eyes. Once she does, she doesn't dare to look away. Her Mom's voice is strained, but she's all but whispering, making her all the more intimidating.

"You listen to me, little girl! I've had it with your little bouts of terrorism. These last weeks you've been nothing but hateful towards your _Momma_ and myself and guess what? It stops _here_ and it stops _now_! If you think that what you're doing now is gonna take care of your little problem, than you're _sadly_ mistaken. You don't run this household. _We_ do!"

The frosty tone directed at her is actually making Beth shiver. It's the first time she's ever heard her Mom talk to her this way and she know it's because she's gone too far. She casts a shifty glance at a still crying Rachel, and she can't help but feel a small tug on her heartstrings. But it's not enough to break through her own pain and anger. She wants to get away from here, from this situation, but she has a feeling her Mom isn't finished yet. And she's right, because Quinn has had a minute to gather her thoughts and is getting her second wind. She's no longer crying and her demeanor isn't a cold as a few moments ago.

"We don't demand a lot from you, Beth. But we do demand respect. I don't know what it is that has made you change your mind about having your Momma in your life, but your disrespect for the both of us is appalling and unwelcome. We've spent eleven years loving you, taking care of you and providing for you and if that doesn't earn us some respect, I don't know what will. As long as you are under this roof, you will treat us as your parents, whether you like it or not. I'm not leaving your Momma. She's not going anywhere unless she wants to."

With those words, Quinn feels an arm slip around her waist, the warmth of Rachel's body pressing into her side.

"I'm not going anywhere", is the only thing she says while looking Beth straight in the eye.

"That's good to hear", Quinn almost nonchalantly replies, slipping her own arm around Rachel's waist and pulling her even closer, feeding off of Rachel's proximity.

And somehow, it irritates the hell out of Beth. She feels her hackles start to rise again. Shouldn't her Mom be on _her_ side? Wasn't it a mother's job to make their kids happy, no matter what? It's always been the two of them against her and it pisses her off. She can already feel her Mom's words wear off and it takes a minute for her mind to return to her earlier thoughts. She needs to get away from them. Before she says or does something _really _stupid.

"One more thing, Beth. If you have a problem with your Momma being a mother, then so be it. We've tried to make you change your mind, but you've made it abundantly clear that that's not going to happen anytime soon. In the mean time try to show some respect to my_ wife_. You may be less than happy with having her around right now, but things will get even more unpleasant with me when she's not! Do we understand each other?"

Beth knows she should just nod and walk away, but something rebels inside her, claws at her insides, trying to get out. And before she knows it, before she can censor herself, the words come flying out her mouth.

"Yes. I understand that I should respect her just because you're fuck-"

Before she can finish her sentence, the sound of a flat palm meeting a cheek and a startled "Quinn!" echo through the room. After that it's completely silent.

It doesn't even register with Beth for a full ten seconds. But then she starts feeling the heat and the sting in her left cheek and she watches as her Mom slips into a near catatonic state. Rachel doesn't know who to comfort first, her wife or her daughter. Beth leaves her with only one option as she turns around and storms off, tears pouring heavily from her eyes.

Rachel reaches for Quinn, but the blond flinches away from her touch before making her own exit. It takes Rachel only a split second to make her decision. This heartbreak has been going on long enough and she knows it will never get better as long as she's around. So she calls for a cab, asking to be picked up in an hour, makes her way to their upstairs bedroom and hastily packs a bag or two. Within the hour, she's gone.


	5. Treble

**Rachel's POV**

New York, 2022

The moment she runs back on stage for curtain call, she's greeted with a standing ovation. Not a single person in the theater is left seated and hoots and hollers can be heard over thunderous applauding. The moment is very similar to fragments of dreams she remembers having when she was younger.

She accepts her accolades with her signature broad smile firmly in place, bowing gracefully numerous times before taking the necessary couple of steps back that bring her in line with her fellow cast members. After a few more collective bows, the final curtain falls and the theater lights flicker on, signaling the audience that the show is really over.

Backstage the cast is ecstatic, complimenting each other excitedly on a job well done with hugs and kisses and jovial pats on the back. The star of the show, however, is already on her way to her dressing room.

With tears already making their way down her cheeks, Rachel is winding her way through the labyrinth of corridors beneath the theater, accepting the compliments of passing crewmembers with barely audible murmurs of gratitude. All she wants right now is to get back to her sanctuary away from the apartment. The only place that provides her the privacy she so desperately needs as soon as the lights go down on stage. It's the same moment the light inside of her dies, too. Every night. And it would've been a beautiful metaphor, if only it weren't so painfully true.

Reaching her dressing room, she pushes the door open, then closes it behind her with a bit more force than needed. Then she sobs.

Blinded by her tears, she crosses the tiny space and settles herself in front of her vanity. Wiping at her eyes and cheeks with her left hand, her right reaches out and plucks a picture from where it's taped to the mirror. She doesn't need to look at it to see the image, but she does it anyway. And she knows it's unhealthily masochistic to keep rubbing salt in her own wounds, but she doesn't care. This is the only way she knows how to be close to the two people she needs the most right now.

Two identical pairs of eyes are staring back at her from the tattered photograph, its edges soft and crumpled, the once glossy paper turned dull by dried up tears cried over the past year. Just looking at the picture makes her heart hurt. Literally. She feels the muscle tighten in her chest, cramping up, and it leaves her breathless for a couple of seconds.

With the tip of her forefinger Rachel reverently trails a path down the frozen image of Quinn's face. Forehead, cheek, chin, neckline, up, then down again, tracing the contours of a beaming smile. The memory of those warm, pliant lips make her own lips tingle in faint recognition and anticipation. It's been close to fifteen months since she last kissed them and she's horrified to discover that she's starting to forget what they feel like. The realization shocks her so much it makes her stop crying. And she's glad for it, because she's already cried so much. Knows that she will cry a lot more, but for right now, it's been enough. It's time to go home. Or rather, it's time to get out of and there and go back to her apartment. As cliché as it may be, Rachel feels home is where the heart is. And hers resides in Lima.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Lima, 2022

It's a strenuous evening in the Fabray-household. Dinner is another awkward affair, even though both Quinn and Beth try to make the best of it by faking polite conversation. It doesn't work.

Quinn keeps dividing her attention between the food on her plate and the clock on the wall. It's in these quiet moments that she finds her mind still tracking Rachel's days. Curtain up in an hour and a half. Voice warm-up's before that, which means she's probably in her dressing room right now, going over her lines as if she's hasn't sung them hundreds of times before. The thought makes her smile wistfully.

She feels Beth watching her. Looks up to her daughter to try to determine the reason. When their eyes meet, she's met by tentative understanding. It confuses her. Does Beth know what she's thinking? Of whom she's thinking?

"What?", Quinn asks in a quiet voice.

It startles Beth a bit because she didn't expect to be called out on her staring. She wants to say what she's thinking. That she knows and understands. That she's right there with her Mom. In New York. With Rachel. But she doesn't.

"Nothing," she mumbles. "Just … nothing."

They hold each other's gaze for long seconds after that, a silent conversation taking place across the kitchen table. Quinn thinks it's the first time in months they've been able to look each other in the eye for more than just a couple of seconds. She doesn't know why it surprises her, but the fact that she can apparently still read her daughter like a book, takes her aback a little. Since Beth's mini-meltdown started, Quinn thought she'd lost touch with her daughter's moods and emotions, but right now it's as clear as it's ever been and Quinn knows why, too. Beth is finally letting her in.

And now, looking into her little girl's eyes, she feels like she's watching the screen crawl on CNN. Too much information in too short a time span. Quinn has trouble keeping up with the rapid change of color in Beth eyes, trying to translate them to thoughts and feelings. She reads pain and regret, anger and sadness, but what makes Quinn gasp is the utter sense of heartbreak her daughter is channeling. She recognizes it as her own and just like that, as if it's everything she's been waiting for, the carefully constructed walls around her heart come tumbling down. A tidal wave of feelings washes through her and Quinn can barely catch a breath because of it.

Beth sits and watches, mouth agape. She's awed by the transformation happening right in front of her. It's like watching Atlas finally dropping the weight of the world from his shoulders. The stone-faced woman she's been living with for the past year, slowly turns back into the Mom she knows from before all the drama. The ever present steeliness in Quinn's eyes seems to melt away, the color of her irises returning to the familiar, warm hazel Beth has been living without for so long and it makes her burst into tears, even though she knows she has no right to feel sorry for herself. She hides her face in her hands out of shame

Deep, heart-wrenching sobs fill the otherwise silent kitchen and Quinn can't stand the way the sound tugs at her heartstrings. She's out her seat and kneeling beside her daughter in a flash. When Beth feels the warmth of a hand on her knee through the denim of her jeans, her head jerks up and she's shocked to find an equally tearful Quinn so close by.

Without thinking Beth throws herself into her mother's arms, the movement catching Quinn off guard, nearly toppling her over. But Beth grabs hold of her so tightly that she manages to balance herself, wrapping her own arms around her daughter's tiny body in equal desperation. They're on that floor for a long time, crying together and comforting each other. Quinn guesses it's been hours.

She's sitting upright now, with her back resting against one of the cabinets. Beth is in her lap, the girl's head resting against Quinn's chest. Quinn's right hand is soothingly playing with the blond curls tucked underneath her chin. Her left arm is still wrapped around Beth in a protective embrace, pressing the girl tightly to her.

The warmth of her mother's body pressed against her own and the sound of the strong, steady heart beats thumping in her ear, almost lull Beth to sleep.

"Mom?" It's nothing more than a whisper.

"What, baby?"

"Sing me a song?"

The request surprises Quinn. It's been years since she last sang to her daughter. It used to be Rachel's thing, right up until the moment Beth decided she was too old for lullabies, breaking her Momma's heart a little in the process. It was the first time Rachel fully realized Beth was growing up fast and it had left her more than a little teary eyed.

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Sing me something Mom-, I mean, Rachel used to sing to me?"

Quinn feels the body in her arms go rigid. She knows Beth thinks she's said something wrong.

"It's okay, Drizzle. She's you Momma. No matter what happened in the past or happens in the future, she'll always be your Momma," Quinn assures her.

Beth feels tears streaming down her cheeks again. Her Mom called her Drizzle _and_ she's not mad at her for almost calling Rachel 'Momma'. Quinn feels the telltale tremble of Beth crying against her chest. She kisses the top of the girl's head before pressing her cheek against it, a contented sigh escaping her mouth.

"We'll be okay, baby. We're going to be okay."

Quinn doesn't need to think of the song she's going to sing. Rachel used to sing it to Beth before leaving for New York for the week, changing the words of the original song to make it fit their own situation.

_Dragon tales and the "water is wide"_  
_Pirate's sail and lost boys fly_  
_Fish bite moonbeams every night_  
_And I love you_

_Godspeed, little girl_  
_Sweet dreams, little girl_  
_Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings_  
_Godspeed_  
_Sweet dreams_

_The rocket racer's all tuckered out_  
_Superman's in pajamas on the couch_  
_Goodnight moon, will find the mouse_  
_And I love you_  
_Godspeed, little girl_  
_Sweet dreams, little girl_  
_Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings_  
_Godspeed_  
_Sweet dreams_

_God bless mommy and match box cars_  
_God bless momma and thanks for the stars_  
_God hears "Amen," wherever we are_  
_And I love you_

_Godspeed, little girl_  
_Sweet dreams, little girl_  
_Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings_

_Godspeed_  
_Godspeed_  
_Godspeed_  
_Sweet dreams_

And sure enough, when Quinn's voice drifts off, Beth's body has gone limp against her. She's fast asleep.

Looking over at the clock on the wall, she realizes they've indeed been sitting on the kitchen floor for hours. Rachel should be on her way home now. Quinn sends out a quick prayer to God, for Rachel's safety. New York is a dangerous city to live in. After that, she sends out another prayer. This one _to_ Rachel. Praying that she knows how much Quinn loves her and always will. Praying that Rachel still loves her in return and misses her just as much.

At that same moment, a little over five hundred miles east, Rachel gets out of a cab in front of her apartment building. Walking up the steps, she suddenly feels a familiar tingle run down her spine. It fills her with a warmth she hasn't felt in a long time and a beautiful smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this took me some time. Sorry for that.  
The song used in this chapter is Godspeed by the Dixie Chicks and is property of its respective owners. Once again, just borrowing, not stealing.**


	6. Remembering

**Okay... My sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. Hope you haven't forgotten about this and hope even more that you like this next part! Without further ado ... Chapter Six!  
**

* * *

**Now  
**She's never been an avid fan of country music, but somehow Alan Jackson's 'The Sounds' has started to grow on her and it's been the most played song on her iPod for quite some time now. It's the first line of the chorus that gets to her every time.

'_Those are the sounds of a woman leaving'_

She remembers what it sounds like. The hurried thumps of Rachel's footsteps carrying through the ceiling, while Quinn's downstairs on the couch, trying to locate her wife's whereabouts as if it were a game. Bedroom, bathroom, bedroom again, guest room. Doors and drawers opening and closing. But the sound that drowns out all the others, the one that pierces her heart just thinking about it now, is the sound of Rachel quietly crying while she packs up the parts of her life she'll be able to carry out the door by herself.

_**Then  
**__The sound of soft footfalls coming down the stairs, tears Quinn's out of her thoughts. Looking up, expecting Rachel, she's surprised to see a visibly upset Beth approaching her cautiously. Quinn thinks the girl's tears should make her feel something, _anything, _but they don't. Despondently, yet pointedly, Quinn turns away from her._

"_Came to gloat?" The words are out of her mouth before she has a chance to censor them._

_In her peripheral, she watches Beth's tear-streaked face form into a grimace, guilt clearly written all across her features._

"_Mom …"_

"_No! No, Beth! I can't imagine you having anything to say that I would want to hear, right now! You got what you wanted; now we get to live with it! Go to your room. I'd like to say goodbye to _my wife_ in private."_

_The venom lacing her mother's voice, does not go unnoticed. It stings a hell of a lot more than the slap she's received earlier. Knowing there's not a chance of getting to apologize now, Beth does as she's told and heads for the stairs. When she's halfway up, Rachel appears at the top, remnants of tears clinging to her lashes, with a suitcase and duffel bag in tow. Beth freezes, her heart rate picking up dramatically, making it hard to breathe. They stare at each other for a couple of long seconds, before Rachel steps aside on the landing, making room for the girl to finish her trek to her bedroom. Beth is almost afraid to move. Each step will take her closer to the woman whose heart she has been willingly and knowingly breaking for the past couple of months. Now that she's achieved her goal, she's not ready to accept the honors. The honors that consist of a family torn apart and two hearts broken beyond repair._

_Not being able to deal with the quiet despair in those familiar brown eyes, Beth tears her gaze away from Rachel's and forces her feet to climb those last few steps separating them. When her right foot hits the landing, bringing her right up beside Rachel, she inhales deeply and closes her eyes. When the scent of Rachel's perfume hits her senses, she can't stop her mind from conjuring up memories in which that same flowery scent meant safety and love and coming home. She remembers her Mom's words from earlier this evening._

"She_ is the woman who helped raise you! _She_is the one who kissed away the pain from your scrapes and bruises when you fell off your bike! __She'__s the one whom you wouldn't let go of on your first day of kindergarten! The one who's been home for the past five weeks while she should've been on stage, __working__, so __you__ can live your life in luxury. So __you__ can have everything your __selfish__ little heart desires!"_

_Trying to keep her fragile composure, Beth soldiers on, passing Rachel on the landing. She hears a quiet sob, ending in a gut-wrenching whimper, but she can't tell for sure who's making the sound. She suspects it's Rachel, but is just as willing to accept it as her own. Before she's able to close her bedroom door, Rachel's broken voice calls out to her._

"_Drizzle?"_

_Beth startles, freezes in movement yet again, but doesn't turn around. With tears already forming in her eyes, she waits for Rachel to address her again._

"_No matter what happens from now on and no matter what's already happened, I want you to know that I love you. Always have and always will."_

_The words break down every barrier between them. While Rachel makes her way down the stairs, sobbing uncontrollably, Beth closes the bedroom door behind her before sagging against it, crying a river of her own. Make that three hearts broken beyond repair._

_Quinn, having overheard Rachel's words, is not fairing any better. She feels like she'll never stop crying after tonight. Watching Rachel coming down those stairs, packed up and ready to walk out, has to be the single most painful sight she'll ever have to deal with._

_Dropping her bags at the foot of the stairs, Rachel walks over to her wife and sits down beside her. The insufferable silence drags on for a couple of excruciating seconds, before Quinn can't take it anymore. While wiping the tears from her eyes, she takes a shuddering breath._

"_You'll be in New York?"_

_It's a dumb question, Quinn knows this, 'cause where else would Rachel go?_

_Rachel, also trying to get her emotions under control, just nods her head in affirmation._

"_Well, at least you won't have to travel back and forth anymore. That's a plus, right?"_

_It sounds scoffing - angry - as if it's pure convenience for Rachel to leave her family behind and it pisses the diva off to no end._

"_Don't, Quinn! Just don't!" She hisses._

"_Don't act like this is what I've wanted all along! The only problem I ever had with traveling between here and New York was leaving you and Beth behind every time I left. The only thing to make it bearable was knowing that I'd be back. There's no greater feeling than coming home to you, the both of you, after being apart for weeks. That's what's made it worth it, every single time."_

_The tears are back now, with a vengeance, because Rachel knows that when she leaves tonight, she won't be able to look forward to her return. There won't be daily phone calls from her wife telling her that they miss her. No e-mails describing the day-to-day activities, letting her know what she's missing, but making her a part of those days nonetheless. No text messages, with horrible grammar and punctuation and even worse abbreviations, from her wife and daughter, letting her know that they're thinking of her. Wishing her luck before a show and congratulating her afterwards. And sometimes, in Quinn's case, letting her know that she's missed in the bedroom, too. Those are usually very well written, perfect grammar and punctuation and not an abbreviation in sight. Oh, and dirty, too…_

"_I'm sorry", Quinn whispers._

"_I'm just so angry! And I don't know who to be the most angry with! Beth, you or myself? I just don't know, Rach. I'm not sure of anything anymore", she cries._

"_You're leaving, Rachel. _Leaving!_" Quinn shouts while jumping up from the couch to start pacing like a mad woman._

"_And you're not coming back and I _hate_ you for that! It feels like you're giving up on me, on _us _and it kills me that it seems so easy for you to walk away!"_

_Rachel is blown away by the level of anger directed at her. It's not that she doesn't understand, but to hear Quinn accuse her of giving up, causes her own ire to spike._

"_Don't you dare tell me I'm giving up, Quinn Fabray!" Rachel practically spits at her wife._

"_The only thing that makes it easy, the only thing that _should_ make it easy to walk away, is the fact that our daughter is suffering. And it hurts like a bitch to know that _I'm_ the one making her suffer and that my leaving will make her happier than she's ever been, but I'm not giving up, Quinn. I'm giving in! I'm giving in to my daughter's wishes, to make her happy! Isn't that what good parenting is all about? To put your children first? To do anything in your power to make sure your kids are safe and healthy and happy? _That's_ what I'm doing, Quinn. I'm trying to make my daughter happy!"_

_Rachel is nearing the stage of hyperventilation, now. Anger and tears are making it hard to breathe. The uncontrolled gasps for air and the quick, shallow movements of her chest make Quinn's stomach turn. She hates to see Rachel so upset._

_Walking over to where her wife is sitting, Quinn takes a seat next to her and starts rubbing her back in slow circles._

"_Slow down, baby", she tries in a soothing tone of voice, while taking one of Rachel's hands into both of her own._

"_Breathe with me, Rach", she orders quietly._

_Taking deep, measured breaths, Quinn tries for Rachel to mimic her and after a few minutes, Rachel's breathing has returned to normal._

"_You gave her a choice", Rachel mumbles, not looking at Quinn while she's saying it._

_Quinn stays quiet. Not because she didn't hear the words, but because she doesn't understand their meaning. She unconsciously strokes Rachel's hand, still caught between her own._

"_You gave her a choice, Quinn!" Rachel says again, this time a bit louder. More forceful._

_Quinn still doesn't understand what she's being accused of. Yes, accused, because even though she doesn't get why, she does get that she's being blamed for something. And that something's to do with Beth._

"_I don't understand, Rachel. What choice did I give her?" _

_Slipping her hand from between Quinn's, Rachel takes another shuddering breath, on the verge of tears again._

"_You told her she didn't have to accept me as her mother. You gave her a choice!"_

_Quinn freezes. Is that what she said? Thinking back to the verbal stand-off with her daughter, she realizes that, yes, she indeed implicated that Beth could view upon Rachel however she saw fit. Demanding respect for Rachel as her wife, not as Beth's Momma. The implication hits her hard and she knows that Rachel has every right to be angry with her, even though Quinn never meant for it to sound like Beth could either choose or renounce the fact that Rachel's her Momma._

"_I'm sorry," Quinn whispers._

"_I'm _so _sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean it like that! You have to believe me", she pleads._

_Rachel watches her wife for a few silent moments. She knows Quinn well enough to know she's truly regretful of her words, but it doesn't take away from the fact that she _did_speak them. And Rachel has never felt less than Beth's mother than she does right now. Even in the beginning of their relationship, when people constantly questioned her role in Quinn's and Beth's lives, often being referred to her as Beth's babysitter or the world's best friend, she'd never felt like this. Remembering the words makes walking away just the slightest bit easier, bringing the level of pain down to soul shattering instead of outright wanting to die because of the fierceness of it._

_Hearing a car pull up outside of the house, Rachel starts getting up from her perch on the couch. Before she's halfway standing, however, Quinn drags her down again, pulling the slight body against her own, almost pulling her into her lap._

"_I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry. So sorry!" Quinn repeats over and over again while hugging her wife to her for the last time in who knows how long. Rachel returns the hug, desperately clinging to the love of her life for a few seconds, whispering, "I know, I know", in the same mantra-like fashion Quinn's mind seems to be stuck in._

_Pulling away, an effort in and of itself, Rachel roughly presses her lips against Quinn's, the saltiness of their mingled tears prickling her skin. Quinn doesn't hesitate to return the kisses. There's nothing sweet about it. It's just the angry, almost-bruising meeting of their mouths, their tongues. Teeth clashing while hands find desperate, almost painful purchase in each other's clothing. And then, just as sudden as it began, it's over and Rachel's off the couch and by the foot of the stairs in an instant, picking up her bags. Hoisting them onto her shoulders, she takes one long, last look at Quinn, almost drowning in the beauty that is her wife._

_The sound of a car horn shakes her out of it. Opening the front door, she throws back an "I love you, too", and then she's gone._

**Now**

Quinn is not the least bit surprised to find herself crying. Remembering that night is a sure fire way to have a meltdown. Alan Jackson is still crooning into her ear phones, grieving the loss of his woman. The song must be on repeat or something. But no matter how often she hears this particular song, the chorus gets her every, single time.

'_Those are the sounds of a woman leaving_

_Stronger than the wind in a willow tree_

_Those are the sounds of a heart breaking_

_You can't hear it, but the sound is killing me'_


	7. The Reason

**Now**

It's been a few days since Beth's breakdown in the kitchen. There's still a somewhat nervous tension in the air, but things are so much better than they have been for the past year and a half. Beth is wondering whether to open up about what started it all. Knows there's no reason good enough to excuse her behavior. To excuse the fact that she's responsible for every single tear the three of them have cried over the previous eighteen months. But she wants to try. She wants to try and redeem herself, knowing that it's going to be a hellish job, but wanting it more than she's ever wanted anything before.

Her mind drifts off to a time and place chiseled into her mind. The memories make her shiver, still. In her young life, she's never been more scared than she had been in that moment. The moment that started her crusade against her parents. The moment after which she could only think of ways to rid her life of Rachel to save herself.

Back then, it had taken her a lot of begging and promising on her part to convince her parents to let her go to the mall without parental supervision. Rachel had been dead-set against the idea, replying with a firm and unwavering "No way!", when the idea had been cast during dinner the night before.

No surprise from either Fabray there. Rachel had changed a lot over the years, but on the inside, the dark haired diva remained that sixteen year old girl who carried mace in her purse and wore a rape whistle around her neck. Just the thought of Beth roaming the Lima mall without them sent 'Momma' into a serious bout of hyperventilation. Quinn, the less dramatic of the pair, tried reasoning with her and, after a thirty minute crying spell and an even longer PowerPoint™ presentation on the do's and don'ts of interacting with strangers, Beth had been allowed to go. Sleepover included. With her friend Amy. After promising to call when Amy's mom dropped them off, to call again after two hours of being there and once again when they'd leave. And once more before bed. And even then Rachel grabbed hold of her just before her daughter had walked out the door and crushed her in an embarrassingly long embrace. As if the girl had been leaving, only to never return, Rachel turned to Quinn once Beth was out the door, and threw herself into her wife's arms with Oscar-worthy flair.

Chuckling at Rachel's, admittedly brilliant, performance, Quinn had pulled her little drama queen into her lap, tenderly stroking the dark locks pressed against her chest, all the while whispering words of reassurance into her ear.

"Stop crying, Momma. Let the girl have some fun. She's going to be just fine…"

Had Quinn known what would happen that day, she would've never uttered those words.

**Then**

Beth is giddy. So is Amy. It's the first time either of them have been allowed to go out without their parents. The girls have been laughing and smiling and chattering away on the whole ride to the mall, actually making Amy's mom feeling a bit relieved she only has to drop them off instead of having to go with them. There's only so much teenage giddiness a parent can handle, after all.

They feel a bit more 'adult' now that they have the freedom to decide on which stores to visit and which clothes to try on. They end of having a laughing fit over a silly Beth trying on a too-short skirt, knee-highs and a dorky pair of Mary Jane's. Amy's practically wetting herself over the picture Beth presents.

"Let me take a picture!", Amy gasps, while whipping out her cell phone.

"Your moms are going to _love_ this!"

After an hour and a half of browsing store after store, they decide to grab something to eat. It's still early, which means an almost empty food court. Beth grabs Amy's hand and tugs her in the direction of a sandwich bar. In all their innocence and excitement, neither girl realizes they have yet to let go, letting their clasped hands swing between them while they make their way over to the desired table.

"Well, well, well", an unknown, yet decidedly unfriendly voice greets them from behind.

Turning around, still holding hands with Amy, Beth eyes the person addressing them. A tall man, with a disapproving look on his face, stares back at her. Lifting one eyebrow in question ~ a trait she's picked up from her Mom ~ she unabashedly returns the stare, asking what he wants without using words.

The man in front of her reads her easily. After all, he's seen this particular expression only too many times, even if it hadn't been on this particular face. The resemblance is almost uncanny. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear he's caught up in some kind of time warp, throwing him back fifteen years into the past.

"You really do take after your mother", the stranger offers, his eyes fixed on the girls' clasped hands. His tone of voice suggests it's not something to be proud of.

Squinting her eyes at the man, Beth studies his face, trying to remember where she knows him from. She's absolutely sure she's seen him before, but try as she might, she has no clear memory of this man. Letting her eyes travel from his blondish hair to his worn face, her steady gaze ends up lingering on his bloodshot eyes. The harsh gleam in them, scares her a little and everything inside of her screams to get away from him as fast as possible while her Momma's PowerPoint presentation runs through her mind in frightening clarity.

Squeezing Amy's hand tighter in her own, Beth attempts to pull them both away from the scene, but she's not fast enough. Amy, apparently, doesn't feel threatened by this man or the situation they're in, because before Beth can lead them away, her friend joins in on the conversation.

"Which one do you mean?", she hears Amy asking and she knows that her best friend is genuinely curious.

"Because I think she takes after both of them. A _lot_!", Amy chuckles.

If the man looked disapproving before, Beth knows that he's practically fuming now. The gleam in his eyes turns cold as ice, his cheeks redden with anger and he's starting to tremble a little.

"A child can only have _one_ mother!", he spits at them.

"Everything else is a _joke_. An _abomination_!", he continues, leaning into them, not caring that they can now smell the alcohol on his breath and caring even less for the apparent fright radiating off of his pre-teen victims.

"Your _mother_ is going to _hell_!" he hisses, loud enough to make sure Beth hears him, but quiet enough to make sure no one else does.

"She's going to _hell_ and she's going to take _you_ with her! She's going to take _everyone_ with her if she doesn't stop defying God. If she doesn't stop going against His will! You're _all_ going to hell, do you hear me, little girl? If your mother doesn't come to her senses and _soon_, God will _never_ forgive her and you will _all_ burn in hell!"

Scared beyond belief now, Beth can't help but cower in the presence of this man. Being the daughter of a Christian Mom and a Jewish one, she's picked up on religion. Not enough to defend her parents against the rage directed at her, but enough to have heard about heaven and hell and right and wrong. There's a children's Bible tucked away in the book case in her bedroom. Next to it, a watered down, handmade-by-her-Momma children's Torah, explaining the basics of her beliefs. Neither mother has ever pressed her to make their religion her own, wanting Beth to choose for herself. Either or neither; Beth's decision.

She's watched her Mom pray. Has been to church with her. She's been witness to her Momma celebrating Hanukah and Passover, not really getting what it's about but knowing it's very important. What she's learned of religion so far, has her thinking it's a lot about love. About family. About loving your family and being grateful for the good things in life. About enjoying those things, but to also remember that others aren't as equally blessed and to help where one can. Whether it's helping an elder cross the street or to donate her allowance to a good cause when tragedy strikes somewhere around the globe. And she knows that it's bigger than that and there's a lot about religion that she doesn't understand, yet, but she knows it could never be anything like what this man is spewing at her… Could it?

Because, what if he's right? He seems to know a lot about it. He's throwing Bible passages at her like he's written them himself, condemning her family and everyone who approves of their living in sin.

Beside her, she feels Amy trembling. She feels how scared her friend is and she feeds off of it, somehow, wanting to protect Amy. Shaking herself out of her fear induced stupor, she yanks Amy away from the craziness happening in front of them. Dodging the, still, bible quoting mad man, they run towards the exit, falling into each other's arms once they hit the parking lot.

After crying for what seems like forever, Amy asks if she should call her mom to come pick them up. Receiving a timid nod from Beth, she immediately makes the call. It will be a fifteen minute wait, at least. It gives them a little time to compose themselves. It also gives Beth the opportunity to make Amy swear on her Justin Bieber collection, to never tell anyone about what's happened just now. It takes some convincing, but Amy concedes in the end, after having Beth promise in return to not worry about a single word that came out of the lunatic's mind. Beth agrees, but her mind's already in overdrive. When she returns home tomorrow, her laptop will be waiting for her. Time to do a little research…


	8. The Reason, Part Deux

**AN: This is a very short chapter, but something I felt I had to add to complete the previous chapter. I'm working on chapter 9 right now and hope to have it up by the end of the day. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 8

**Then**

It's been a troubling night for Beth. Sleep hadn't come easily and now, while having breakfast with Amy and her parents, all she wants is to go home. She feels sluggish, has a massive headache and she can't help but think that this is what a hangover must feel like.

After thanking Amy's family for their hospitality, she gets into the car waiting for her outside. It's her Mom, thankfully. Thankfully, because her Momma talks a mile a minute no matter what time of the day it is and Beth doesn't think she could handle a conversation at the speed of light right now. Her Mom is so much more relaxed and doesn't feel the incessant need to fill every silence with a round of '20 Questions'. Or thirty. Or forty.

When she gets home, she greets her Momma with a kiss to the cheek and a quick cuddle. All she wants is to go upstairs and think! Think about what happened yesterday and try and find out if her family is really as bad as the man said it is. So she climbs the stairs, enters her room and locks the door behind her. It's not something her parents are very fond of, the locking of the door that is, but having been teenagers themselves, they understand that even an eleven year old needs privacy sometimes. Besides, what evil could a girl her age even encounter being in there all by herself?

Booting up her laptop, she tries to think of the words the man spat at her. Names, bible quotes, homosexuality. She decides on a starting point and, after accessing her browser, types in: _hell_ and _homosexuality_. It's the worst possible combination of words she could've entered.

Within seconds the search results flash before her eyes. Familiar sounding names make her head spin. Leviticus, Corinthians, Romans. The pointer of her mouse hovers over the results. She's not really sure which one to click, so she chooses one without thought. Another fatal error.

The first thing this site offers is a picture of The Lake of Fire. Underneath it, a text that references a good few topics the crazy man had been yelling about. She reads it all; phrases like 'Speak out against sin', 'Indecent acts' and even a reference to AIDS as punishment from God Himself for being gay. Words like 'perverse' and 'depravity' sear their way into her retinas. She reads how homosexuality is a choice and how people making that choice will never be able to enter Heaven.

With trembling fingers she clicks the back-button of her browser, only to click on link after link of the same misleading websites. When her Momma calls her down for lunch, she realizes she's been at it for hours. Hours of reading how wrong homosexuality is. Of how her Mom, despite being a Christian, will never go to heaven when she dies. She's in a state of shock. How can her parents live like this? Are they even really married? Why would they choose to live in sin, knowing how the world views upon people who are gay? Why would they choose to expose _her_ to something like that? Don't they want her to go to Heaven when she dies?

With a mind full of questions, she descends the stairs and joins her parents at the kitchen table. She studies their behavior. The smiles, the touches, and the kisses they share. She doesn't want to believe it's not right, because they make it look so normal. But millions of people think it _isn't _right and surely they can't all be wrong? Right?

In the days and weeks following her mall encounter with the crazy man, it's all she can think about. A good portion of every day is spent in front of her laptop. She can't decide who's right or wrong anymore, but she feels herself changing. It starts with her wincing at any kind of intimacy between her mothers, her eyes rolling skyward, as if she's waiting for the bolts of lightning to strike them dead right there at the dinner table. She pulls back from physical contact, especially when her Momma is the one initiating it. She doesn't want to cuddle anymore and kisses are even more of a taboo. It pains her when, the first couple of times she dodges a hug or a kiss, she sees the questioning and hurt looks directed at her. When she watches her Mom comfort her Momma with a soft smile and a whispered, "Teenagers", accompanied by an impressive eye roll, she's actually grateful for the excuse. And that's when she really starts to act out, resulting in an epic battle of wills between her Mom, her Momma and herself. A battle she ultimately wins, but she has nothing to show for it. In the end, she's become a victim of her own war.

* * *

**AN2: I know religion can be a diffcult and thought-provoking subject. I don't mean to offend with the subject matter. I'm not religious myself, though I admit to enjoying conversations regarding religion. Every three weeks or so, a Jehova's Witness rings my doorbell and we have brief discussions on what's going on with the world today. I have yet to start the topic of homosexuality with him, but I have to lull him into a false sense of security first before pulling out the big guns. Just kidding. Mostly.**

**I have my own beliefs, however, and one of them is that I believe everyone should feel free to worship or not at all. I realize that the words used in this story are of an extreme nature and not every religious person believes that way. I'm not trying to provoke and it's not my intent to stigmatise religion.**

On to chapter 9!


	9. Get Ready to Rumble

**As promised, chapter 9  
I wanted to speed things up a bit and this is how it came out.  
Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think.  
Enjoy!**

* * *

**Now**

Rachel roams around the streets of her beloved New York. It's something she loves to do before heading towards the theater, even though the once bright lights seem duller than before. Where she once felt as tall as the buildings surrounding her, she now feels as if they're looming over her, ready to collapse and swallowing her up in the process.

The slow throb against the inside of her skull is almost comfortingly familiar. It's not that she has a drinking problem, it's not, but she doesn't know of any other way to fall asleep at night. (She's been thinking about taking sleeping pills instead, but just thinking of having a full bottle within her reach scares her half to death.) The routine she performs when she gets home is the only constant in her life. Sad, but true. She could have the life she's always wanted. Many of her cast mates, her friends, try to get her to go out with them. She's been asked out on dates, has been hit on numerous times by numerous people, but she rejects, deflects, and returns home to an empty apartment. To wallow in what could've been and grieve for the loss of it.

Last night, while flipping through a photo album, she suddenly got angry. It doesn't happen often, but every now and then, she can't help but be furious. With Quinn, with Beth, but most of all with herself. She told Quinn she was giving in and at that moment, she truly believed she was, but now, after almost two years of reflecting, she realized she _was_ giving up back then, even if it had been with the best of intentions. Yes, the road to hell and all that.

The anger she'd felt last night had been a welcome change from the ever present feeling of loss. She hadn't cried last night and that, too, had offered some sense of relief. She knows how much trouble she puts her make-up artist through, trying to hide the gauntness in her face before every performance. No one knows why she looks like she does, why she acts the way she does. She can see the questions burning in their eyes, but the frosty mask she dons keeps them from actually asking them aloud. She knows they think she's being a diva, but the face staring back at her in the vanity's mirror shows that she's anything but. She performs to the best of her ability, but it hasn't been for the love of the trade for a long time now. It's what she knows, what she does best, but at the end of the day, it's just a job like any other. She might as well be writing out parking tickets all day and she wouldn't feel any different than she does now.

Lost in thought and having paid no attention to where her feet have been taking her, she finds herself ending up in Central Park. Seating herself on a bench overlooking the angel fountain, she notices how quiet it is around her. Checking her watch, she realizes it's only just past eight in the morning on a Saturday. It also makes her realize she has been up and about for almost three hours now. _'So'_, she thinks to herself, '_time also flies when you're _not_ having fun'_, before getting lost in her head again. She remembers the last time she's talked to Quinn on the phone.

It doesn't happen often because it hurts the both of them too much to try and act like nothing's wrong and that it's completely normal to talk about their day-to-day lives. Inane questions, shallow answers and uncomfortable silences mark their conversations and they know they shouldn't be doing it, but the urge to hear the other's voice is just too strong sometimes. On her cell phone, Rachel still has voice mails saved from the time they were together. Every 'I love you' and 'I miss you' is seared into her brain. She can quote the messages verbatim and in her sleep. In the beginning, right after the demise of their relationship, she'd been tempted to delete them, but she's glad she hasn't. Some days, Quinn's voice burring into her ear is the only thing that keeps her going. She knows it's foolish to hope for something that will never happen, but in those moments, with the warmth of Quinn's voice flooding her body and mind, she can't help but hope that someday they'll get it right.

A few weeks ago, during their last real-time talk, the warmth in the voice she misses so much had been non-existing. They'd both been struggling with the halted conversation. Whit sweaty palms and racing hearts they'd tried to force some sort of semblance of normalcy into the conversation, but it wasn't working. It never did.

"_So," followed by a few seconds of silence. "How've you been?" Quinn knows it sounds as distant to Rachel as it does to herself and she can't help but roll her eyes at her own inability to take down her shield._

_On the other end, Rachel heaves a shuddering breath. It shouldn't be that hard to formulate a proper response to the seemingly simple question, (she should just lie as she always does), but the practiced two-worded answer won't leave her lips as easily as it usually does. She wonders why that is. Wasn't it supposed to become easier over time?_

"_Rachel?" Quinn tries again. This time her voice sounds a bit more normal. A bit more like _her_ Quinn. Not quite as warm as she remembers, but close enough that it pushes her to respond._

"_Sorry. Yeah, fine. I'm … fine. You?"_

_Rachel knows they're both acting during these phone calls. Once again, she wonders why they keep doing this to themselves, even though she knows she will never be the one to stop it. She won't be the first to completely let go. She'd rather suffer through a thousand awkward conversations a day than to let herself fade into the background of Quinn's life. And Beth's._

"_I'm fine, too," Quinn replies, lying through her teeth every single time she says it. However, it's the only sensible answer, because no matter how often she dreams of spilling her true thoughts and feelings, she won't be the first one to crack. Her pride won't let her, even though she knows pride is a sin. Then again, she might as well go for seven out of seven, because she's also familiar with the other six. Wrath. Greed. Sloth. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. It's almost funny she's committed all these sins against, with or for Rachel Berry. Maybe God's trying to tell her something, after all._

"_How's Beth?" Rachel's voice cracks on the name, as always. What she's really asking is, _'Has she come to her senses, yet? Has anything changed? Is there something for me to hang on to?'

"_She's doing well in school," Quinn starts the routine story of Beth's day to day life. What she's really saying is, _'Hardly anything's changed. We don't talk about it. About _you_. There's nothing I can offer you right now.'

_It leads to another painful lull in the conversation, both women trying to swallow down their feelings. Rachel trying not to show the disappointment of having her hopes dashed, yet again. Quinn trying to quell the painful throb of her heart, knowing she's hurting Rachel, still. She wants to say that Beth is changing her ways, but Quinn doesn't have enough proof to make it truth and she doesn't want to give Rachel false hope, if any._

"_That's good to hear, Quinn. I'm proud of her."_

_Even though the cheerfulness in Rachel's voice sounds so blatantly forced, Quinn knows she's telling the truth. Rachel is proud of their daughter. Nothing will ever change that. The last words Rachel had spoken to Beth back then had been more of a promise than it'd been a statement; _'No matter what happens from now on and no matter what's already happened, I want you to know that I love you. Always have and always will.'_ And Quinn knows it._

"_I know, Rachel, but it's always good to hear you say it."_

_Another moment of silence and they both know they have to end it here. Instead of saying, _'I miss you. Come back to me',_ Quinn tells Rachel to take care of herself._

_Instead of replying with, 'I love you. Tell me you love me, too, just one more time,' she says that she will and for Quinn to do the same._

Rachel's phone buzzing pulls her back into the present. She knows it's her agent. It makes her realize she's been sitting here for quite some time and if she wants to be on time for her breakfast meeting, she'll have to take a cab back to her apartment.

Since it's still early Saturday, she has no trouble hailing a taxi. Within thirty minutes, she's standing outside of her building, her jaw dropping when she spots the blonde-haired woman occupying the front steps.

Cautiously, as if she's afraid the mirage will fade into nothingness, she makes her way over to her almost ex-wife, Quinn looking just as apprehensive, but still looking _so_ damn good, Rachel thinks to herself.

In the time it takes Quinn to stand up, Rachel has taken the necessary steps to bring herself within two feet of the body of the woman she hasn't seen in almost two years. It feels like being drawn to a magnet, Rachel imagines, because as soon as the scent of Quinn's perfume enters her nostrils, she has to actively prevent her feet from taking another step. Stop her arms from throwing themselves around slim shoulders and burying her face in the silky, short blonde tresses framing that hauntingly beautiful face.

For a long moment, all they do is look at each other, searching each other's faces. Eye contact is fleeting, no more than a second at a time. Instead, their gazes flick around, familiarizing themselves with plain-to-see 'battle scars'. Previously absent lines around the eyes, around the corners of their mouths. Noticing weight lost and burdens gained. It's a painful process, but they can't stop themselves from drinking the other in, not knowing how long it will be before they'll have the chance again.

Rachel doesn't want to speak. She thinks that she might be dreaming and if she is, she doesn't want to wake up. Ever.

Quinn's practically of the same mind, but she also knows that they can't keep standing here, blocking the entrance to the building. Besides, she's here on a mission. A mission she's set out to accomplish, but not in front of Rachel's neighbors and the whole of New York, thank you very much! Therefore, she takes the initiative to speak.

"I'm sorry for just showing up here. I know I should have called first, but I … I just … I was afraid you'd tell me not to bother," she near whispers, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

Damn it! She'd told herself not to get emotional right off the bat, knowing that she wouldn't be able to stop herself once the first tear would fall, but she can't help it. For the first time in _so_ long, her wife's within reaching distance and even though Rachel looks different, haggard even, she's never seen anything more beautiful. All she wants to do is wrap herself around the short figure standing in front of her, but she knows she can't. Rachel won't allow it.

Quinn drops her gaze to the steps below her before bringing her eyes up and finally meeting Rachel's. The second it happens, a bolt of lightning from within strikes her. She reads the apprehension in those once familiar eyes and she understands it. She knows she's put Rachel at quite a disadvantage by showing up unexpectedly. Quinn's had time to think of what she wants to say, but Rachel hasn't. The brown eyes boring into her own are demanding answers to unspoken questions and Quinn is so relieved to find that she can still read them, that she almost burst into tears.

Rachel has yet to speak, but the fire in her eyes dies a little when she witnesses the struggle within Quinn's. The singer feels overwhelmed and all of its superlatives. Seeing her wife today had not been on the agenda. Hell, not for today or any other day soon, she adds mentally. However, shocked as she may be, she also knows that they have to take this inside. Whatever _this_ means.

Without a word, she ascends the steps, unlocks the door and crosses the threshold. She holds the door wide open behind her, silently signaling Quinn to follow her inside. The air between them is solemn, neither woman knowing what to expect once they hit Rachel's apartment. The time between entering the building and stopping in front of her door takes all of three minutes, but it leaves Rachel with enough time to come up with the most horrifying scenarios she can think of.

She still hasn't signed and returned those damned papers. Is that the reason for Quinn's visit? To finalize their divorce? Maybe something is seriously wrong with Beth. Or maybe with Quinn herself? Is she ill? Is she dying? Are her dads okay? She's starting to shake so badly that she loses the ability to unlock her front door, dropping the keys from her hand. She stares at them as if she's willing them to jump right back into her hand. Quinn crouches down, her own insides a quivering mess, picks the keys up and returns them to Rachel's hand, their fingers briefly touching. It's enough to break Rachel. Just a millisecond of contact and it's all she needs to finally lose it. To finally realize that Quinn's really here. She hears a keening sound escape her mouth, signaling the beginning of her breakdown. She's trying to control her breathing. She's trying to stop the inevitable from happening, but it's not working. She lets herself fall towards the door, rests her forehead against it and lets the tide of her emotions crash over her.

Quinn watches helplessly as the woman she loves crumples before her eyes. It feels as if something's lodged itself in her throat and no matter how many times she swallows, she can't seem to get rid of it. She hears Rachel's breathing pick up and knows she's going to start hyperventilating any minute now. Her subconscious takes over and before she even realizes she's moving, she's plastered herself against Rachel's back, arms wrapping around the too thin frame while resting her chin on her wife's shoulder.

"Easy, sweetheart. Slow your breathing," Quinn orders in a soft voice, not noticing the use of the term of endearment sneaking its way between the rest of her words.

"Breathe with me," She murmurs over and over again, all the while inhaling and exhaling in an exaggerated manner, trying to coach Rachel into copying her breathing pattern. As if things had never changed between them, Rachel relaxes her body into Quinn's, her mind completely focused on the voice whispering in her ear. Her back presses into the warm body behind her and she lets Quinn carry her, albeit slight weight.

Rachel is still crying silently, as is Quinn. She came here to talk. To explain what's going on with Beth and how they're trying to talk about what happened. Quinn wanted to tell Rachel in person, the subject too important to discuss over the phone. She'd come prepared, with hope as her weapon of choice and her heart full armored against rejection. Yet, she has no defense against the feel of her wife pressed flush against her. She never even considered she might have a need for it. So, now she's standing here, in a New York City apartment building, reveling in the feeling of having Rachel in her arms once again and not ever wanting to let go. Except, she has to. As addictive as this feeling is, she knows they'll have to enter the apartment at some point in time and face their fears.

"Better now?" Quinn queries in the same reassuring tone of voice from before. When she feels the back of Rachel's head nod an affirmative against her shoulder, Quinn reluctantly steps back, forcing Rachel to stand on her own. With a deep breath, she tries to get a grip on her own emotions. She straightens her back and rolls her shoulders like a boxer getting ready to rumble.

"Rachel. We need to talk."


	10. Come Home Soon

**Hi there,**

**Without trying to sound disrespectful to the story, I'm trying to wrap this one up as soon as possible. After this one, only one or two more chapters will be added. I think the prompt is filled, even though it took me a very long time to do so.**

**I'm currently working on more than one story. This one, The Heist and Look at Us.**

**FYI, the latter will be completed in one more chapter. Once upon a time I promised myself to never ever work on more than one story at the same time ever again. Now I'm writing three and it's starting to mess with my head. Especially since there's another story in my head waiting to be delivered on paper. I've already started the outlining on that one, though I won't start writing until finishing this and the other two and won't post until the new one's finished.**

**So, having said that, I hope you enjoy the (almost) conclusion of this story. If you do, I wouldn't mind you letting me know. If you don't, well… If you must ;)**

**A big round of applause to those of you taking the time to review!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Perched on the couch, Quinn takes in her surroundings. Rachel's apartment is sparsely furnished, a far cry from the home they'd both created back in Lima. Her eyes lock onto the closed photo album lying on the coffee table. She's seen it before. She could draw the pictures inside from recollection alone. When she reaches out to pick it up, something else catches her eye and it freezes her in her seat. Two empty wine bottles lay forgotten underneath the table. The sight of the green glass vessels makes Quinn's heart stop for just a second, before it starts beating again with the painful rhythm of guilt.

Before she has a chance to lose herself in thoughts of Rachel's possible alcoholism, her wife steps into the room with two cups of coffee. Placing them on the table with shaky hands, Rachel notices the photo album. She wants to pick it up and hide it from view, but realizes it's a moot point since there's no way Quinn hasn't seen it already.

She takes a seat next to Quinn, leaving a good foot or two between them. Looking everywhere but at Quinn, she starts to fidget. Quinn notices and accepts it as her cue. She's left Rachel hanging long enough.

"I really am sorry for not calling first. I realize I should have, but, as I said before, I was afraid of you telling me to stay away."

Rachel looks up at her, if only for a second and nods her understanding.

"It's okay, Quinn. I would've appreciated a heads up, but you're already here. Though I'm still trying to figure out why you came all the way to New York to see me."

Sparing Quinn her earlier inner rant of things that could possibly be wrong, she continues to stare at the coffee table, waiting for Quinn to reveal her true motive of flying five hundred miles to visit her soon-to-be ex-wife.

Quinn feels the tension between them grow thicker and thicker. In her mind, she's trying to string together the words that will explain why she's here, but Rachel's proximity is messing with her head. Memories of their 'courtship', as Rachel used to call it, flood her brain and it makes her heart clench inside her chest. She wishes they'd get a do-over; a clean slate. She's pleaded with her God for another shot at forever with Rachel. To get it right the second time around. So far, He's not been very helpful, but Quinn doesn't blame Him. She blames a lot of people, including herself, but not her Heavenly Father. Her earthly father, however…

Her body goes rigid just thinking of that horribly hateful man. The man she once called Daddy, the man that used to look at her with such pride in his eyes. The man she's been trying not to hate since finding out what really happened with Beth all those months ago. He doesn't deserve such a passionate emotion, but Quinn can't help it. She truly, honestly believes she hates him.

The moment Beth finally opened up to her, she'd been up in arms. Their daughter's heart wrenching sobs had been the only thing stopping her from leaving the house, getting into her car, driving to her parents' house and strangling the son of a bitch.

Quinn's shaking with anger from remembering how upset Beth had been when she'd finally come clean. Their now twelve-year-old daughter had been on her knees in front of her, clutching the fabric of her Mom's t-shirt in trembling fists, begging for forgiveness. The image is seared into her brain and recalling it breaks her heart every time.

Rachel catches onto Quinn's emotional state. Clenched fists, resting on top of bouncing knees. The faraway look in those hazel eyes informs Rachel that Quinn has temporarily left the building, so to speak, but the anger radiating off her is palpable.

Rachel wonders who's on the wrong end of Quinn's gun, because it looks as if she's ready to shoot to kill. Knowing it's best to let Quinn stew for a couple of minutes, Rachel scoots off the couch to go and refill their coffee cups, the untouched brew having gone lukewarm by now. It gives her something to do while Quinn sorts through her thoughts and feelings. She's even more anxious now than she'd been a couple of minutes ago, wondering if it's her picture Quinn's using for mental target practice.

From the kitchen, Rachel has the perfect view of Quinn. As always when laying eyes upon her wife, the only thing she can think is, '_God_, she's beautiful'. She'd do anything for just one more kiss. One more touch. One more lazy Monday in bed, talking and laughing and making love until Beth comes home from school. With a wistful sigh, she stops herself from taking that particular trip down memory lane. It's a dangerous road to travel now that the object of her undying affection is within reach.

She still feels the phantom warmth of Quinn pressed against her back just minutes ago. The recollection of the sweet words whispered into her ear and the pressure of Quinn's chin resting on her shoulder leaves her fighting another crying spell. So warm. So comforting. So familiar. And so out of reach.

Gathering herself, Rachel concentrates on emptying the coffee cups before filling them again. Walking back into the living room, Quinn's eyes find hers and she doesn't look away until Rachel's seated again. If there's only one foot of space between them now, it's purely coincidental…

Scooting towards the edge of her seat, Quinn reaches for her coffee cup. The movement accidentally brings her shoe into contact with the bottles under the table. The clinking sound of glass hitting glass, draws Rachel's attention to where Quinn's foot is. Looking up at Quinn, she finds a stern yet concerned look directed at her.

"Should I be worried?" Quinn can't help but ask.

Rachel looks away, fixes her gaze on the far wall and shrugs somewhat helplessly.

"It helps me sleep at night", she quietly admits.

Quinn keeps looking at Rachel, trying to determine if that's all there is to it. Because she understands the concept of having a 'night cap' before bed. Two bottles of wine, however, are a completely different story.

Rachel is starting to squirm under Quinn's scrutiny. Quinn never approved of using alcohol as an escape, having been brought up in a family doing just and only that. Also, Beth. Though Quinn hasn't thought of their daughter as a mistake since before she was born, the girl's moment of conception is not something Quinn's proud of. Alcohol has been the reason for a lot of misery in her life and the thought of Rachel drowning her sorrows in booze scares her half to death.

"There are other ways to help you sleep at night, Rachel," Quinn carefully counters.

She doesn't mean to sound scolding, but there's a hint of it in her voice anyway.

Rachel doesn't dare look up. The shame she feels is nothing new. She knows alcohol is not making things any easier in the light of day, but the alternatives scare her. Being called out on her drinking behavior by Quinn is no walk in the park either, though. The obvious reprimand makes her feel weak and small. She feels her eyes burning with oncoming tears, yet she's powerless to stop them. Turning away from Quinn, she's discretely trying to wipe her eyes, but Quinn is no fool.

Reaching out, she rests a hand on the smaller woman's lower back, rubbing the tightly coiled muscles through the fabric of her shirt. Rachel startles at the surprising but welcome touch before relaxing into the warmth of Quinn's hand. It does nothing to stop the tears. Quinn touching her is only making them come faster and Rachel has to physically restrain herself from turning around and throwing herself into her wife's embrace.

"I'm not trying to sound like a parent, Rachel", Quinn offers as an apology.

"I worry about you, okay? I … It's just that … Drinking is …"

"I know," Rachel cuts her off with a quivering voice.

"I know, Quinn. Drinking is never the answer. You know I know that. But it hurts. It hurts _so_ bad sometimes".

Wanting to say more, to explain herself better, Rachel becomes frustrated with herself when she finds she can't stop crying. Quinn's hand is still rubbing her lower back and she doesn't know whether to pull away or lean into the touch. She's so confused. So overwhelmed. She's finally breaking. For real this time. Everything that's been kept inside for so long is finally floating to the surface. All the hurt and heartbreak. The rejection, the spiteful, hateful words thrown at her. The loss of her daughter. The loss of her wife. The loss of her dreams, because they don't mean anything to her anymore. Who cares about starring on Broadway day in, day out, when there's no one to come home to.

There's no one telling her how proud they are of her. No one at the door, waiting for her with a kiss and a hug and a, 'Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?' Or night. Or whatever.

No one telling her that there's a hot bath waiting and to just go on ahead and that they'll be there in a minute. No one to put their arms around her and telling her how much they missed her and that they're glad she's home, even if it's just for a couple of days.

No daughter climbing up her short frame, throwing her tiny arms around her Momma's neck and practically squeezing the life out of her in her obvious enjoyment of Momma's return. No endless chatter about school and friends and must-see TiVo'd television shows or newly acquired musicals on DVD.

There's nothing left. Nothing but that cold and empty apartment housing a cold and empty soul.

So she cries. For everything that's been ripped away from her. She's worked so hard to become the star she'd always said she'd be. She's worked even harder to become a good wife and an even better mother, but in the end it's all been for naught. She's in the middle of divorcing the love of her life to make the other love of her life happy. And the love of her professional life, the stage, is doing nothing to fill the void. She cries some more.

Quinn can no longer contain her own tears. She's watching Rachel breaking down right in front of her and it breaks her, too. Not caring about the outcome of it all, she stands and moves in front of Rachel. Kneeling down on the floor, she wraps her arms around her wife's trembling frame and pulls her towards the edge of the couch, maneuvering herself between Rachel's knees.

Rachel instantly buries her face into Quinn's neck while pulling her into a tight embrace. She wants to drown in the security Quinn's arms provide. It's been so long since she's felt anything resembling safety and she doesn't want to let go of it now.

Rachel's desperation reminds Quinn of Beth's first breakdown in the kitchen. Always the levelheaded, Quinn has become accustomed to being the anchor to Rachel and Beth's tendencies to let themselves float away on torrents of emotion, grounding them when they need it. She prides herself on the fact that she's so good at it. Dealing with two highly emotional and, at times, irrational diva's is hard work. The rewards have always been worth it, though. Like Beth, Quinn knows who's always been responsible for the lightheartedness in their home. They miss it dearly.

After long minutes of crying, Rachel finally heaves a deep breath, signaling the nearing end of her meltdown. She's not letting go of Quinn, however, too scared it may be the last time she'll ever be this close to her wife. Quinn senses her reluctance. She feels the same way, so she doesn't pull back. They revel in each other's nearness, in the familiarity of the moment.

Rachel's face is still resting in the crook of Quinn's neck. The masochist inside of her can't help but breathe in the scent of Quinn. To Rachel, she smells like home. It's something she's almost forgotten over time, but she's basking in it now, vowing to never let herself forget again.

Not being able to stop herself, Rachel presses her lips to the skin of Quinn's neck, not really kissing, just touching. She feels the resulting shudder of Quinn's body mirroring her own. She hears a sigh escape Quinn's mouth while she feels the body in her arms relaxing a little bit more into her own. Quinn's acceptance of her touch makes her a little bolder and even though Rachel knows she probably shouldn't, she finds herself trailing her lips up and down the soft skin.

Quinn knows she probably shouldn't let this happen. Not before they talk, anyway. But she doesn't want to stop. It just feels too damn good to have Rachel touching her like this again. When she feels those warm lips whispering a touch over her pulse point, she can't help but let out a quiet moan. She feels a familiar heat shoot up from between her thighs, settling itself in her lower abdomen. She's getting turned on, something that shouldn't surprise her. Rachel kissing her neck has always been the best form of foreplay for her, especially when, after minutes of kissing and licking, light biting became involved.

But Rachel's not doing anything of the sort. Yet. There's only the barely there pressure of lips driving Quinn crazy in a completely new way. When she feels the minute flicker of tongue grazing just below her ear, she pulls herself out of Rachel's reach with a low growl. Leaning her back against the coffee table, Quinn tries to steady her breathing while she's watching Rachel go through about a dozen looks before finally settling upon rejection.

It's not. Rejection, that is. It's not. Quinn had been about seconds away from giving in. It would be so easy to let Rachel seduce her, but they still need to talk. After that … Well, they'll just have to see where things go.

"Don't look so hurt, Rach", Quinn pleads.

"You can't possibly believe I didn't enjoy that, but … we should talk first, don't you think? I came here for a reason. A good reason, I think. And I should explain my being here before … you know?"

The hurt in Rachel's eyes slowly fades into reluctant hope. Quinn said she's here for a good reason. That ought to mean something, doesn't it? She also really likes the 'before' at the end of Quinn's sentence, but she doesn't want to jump to conclusions. They really _should_ talk first.

"Okay", Rachel acquiesces, nodding her head for emphasis while ridding her cheeks of the remnant of tears.

"Then talk."

"Okay", Quinn starts, searching her mind for a starting point. Just dive in or handle with care. Quinn thinks the former will be much more appreciated. Getting up from her knees, she takes a seat on the coffee table, wanting to be able to look Rachel in the eyes while telling her this. Taking one of Rachel's hands in one of her own, Quinn starts talking.

"I finally found out what made Beth act out. At us. It's not at all what I expected to be the reason, but it made sense once I took a minute to think about it."

She watches Rachel's eyes widen in surprise. Just like Quinn, Rachel had reluctantly made peace with the idea of never finding out the real reason of Beth's one-eighty.

"It wasn't you", Quinn tries to emphasize while squeezing the hand in her own, hoping Rachel will believe this part even if she never believes anything else.

"Or, not you, personally, at least. It wasn't about what you did or didn't do that made her lash out at you specifically. I want you to know that first and foremost, okay?"

Rachel just nods, not really believing what Quinn's saying, but she's keeping her thoughts to herself so Quinn can move on with her explanation.

"It was _Russell_", Quinn grinds out, feeling anger take hold of her once again.

Rachel's looking mightily confused.

"You mean your _father_, Russell?" She asks for clarification.

Quinn laughs a hollow laugh at that.

"He doesn't deserve that title. It's Russell now, even though I can think of more suitable names for that asshole!"

Rachel's still confused. No matter how hard she tries, she can't think of a scenario that would make Russell Fabray to blame for the hell they're going through.

"What happened, Quinn?"

Quinn gets up, no longer able to suppress the anxiousness and fury inside of her. She starts pacing, transferring her agitation onto Rachel who starts fidgeting, too.

"He got a hold of her at the mall. You remember that time she went out with Amy? The first sleepover? That's when it happened."

The questions she poses are rhetorical, Rachel knows, so she doesn't bother answering.

"That son of a bitch cornered them and like the lunatic he is, started in on them about us. About our relationship and how we're all going to burn in hell because of it. Beth told me he reeked of alcohol, though that's not really surprising, is it? He scared the hell out of her. Out of the both of them. But the worst part of it is that Beth took it to heart. _Goddamnit!_"

Quinn is starting to lose her cool completely. Rachel has never seen her this angry before, but decides it best not to interfere.

With tears of frustration in her eyes, Quinn looks at Rachel.

"He told an eleven-year-old she's going to burn in hell because her parents love each other! Who _does_ that, Rachel? _Who?_ That deluded, bible-thumping _sack of shit_!"

Rachel feels her own hackles start to rise. She can only imagine how Beth must've felt after the confrontation. It certainly explains part of her behavior, but not all of it.

"Why didn't she come and talk to us about it?" She queries the irate blonde who's still pacing the floor of the living room.

"_Apparently_", Quinn fumes, "Beth thought it a better plan to ask a piece of machinery the questions she wanted answers to. She educated herself on the subject with help of the World Wide Web and learned all there is to know about the mix of religion with homosexuality from websites telling her that AIDS is God's way of punishing people for being gay!"

"Oh my God", Rachel breathes while tears fill her eyes.

"Oh my God, Quinn. My poor baby!"

Hearing Rachel's words, stops Quinn dead in her tracks. Deflating a little, she moves back to the couch and crouches down in front of Rachel again.

"I know, Rachel. I know. I hate the thought of her going through all that alone, but it's done now. We're starting to pick up the pieces back home and we want you to help us with that. Beth is still begging for forgiveness, even though I've forgiven her the moment she told me what made her push you away. She really wants to talk to you, but she's scared you might hate her for what she's done."

Rachel startles at that.

"I could never hate her, Quinn. She needs to know that."

"Then tell her, Rach. Come home with me and tell her that yourself. We need you, baby. Please, come home."

They're both back to crying now. Rachel can't believe the words leaving Quinn's mouth. They want her to come home, but is it really that easy?

Swallowing another tearful hiccup, Rachel stares into Quinn's eyes.

"It can't be that easy, Quinn. It just can't."

"And it's not, Rachel. It's not easy and we'll talk about it a lot more, I'm sure, but it's worth fighting for, isn't it?"

There's a resounding 'Yes' on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be released, but Rachel can't help but remain cautious.

"We've fought so hard for so long, Quinn. In the end it didn't matter. We lost everything!"

Quinn feels her heart start to crack with Rachel's hesitation. It hadn't taken a rejection into account, for it would've broken just thinking of a negative outcome.

"No! Not everything, Rach. I still love you as much as the day I married you. I miss you every day and every night. I've tried to live without you, baby, but it's too hard. I can't do it anymore. Don't make me do that anymore."

Quinn's desperation can be easily read in the words she's speaking. Also, tears. Lots of them and they're Rachel's kryptonite. A crying Quinn is still a beautiful Quinn, but witnessing it calls forth utter heartbreak. Even Santana had to claim allergies when moments like these occurred in the past.

"Yes", Rachel whispers, feeling her own tears dripping down her cheeks.

With hopeful eyes Quinn searches Rachel's face.

"Was that a 'Yes'? She questions, making sure she heard right.

Rachel nods, a small smile blooming on her face.

"It's a 'Yes', Quinn. We're going to do this."

With fresh tears clouding her vision, but with a wide smile on her face, Quinn throws herself at Rachel, straddling her wife in the process.

The resulting embrace is near suffocating, but they don't really mind. Not knowing know whether to laugh or cry, they do both.

Quinn is the first one to pull back, earning her a disapproving sound from Rachel.

Looking deeply into her wife's eyes, Quinn watches hope blossom right in front of her. The happiness filling her heart is threatening to spill over and Quinn feels as if it's about to burst at the seams.

Rachel watches Quinn just as attentively. This is the woman she's not going to divorce. The thought of those damned papers, make her want to get up and get them, then ritually burn them to ashes. Maybe she'll do that later. Right now, the blonde in her lap deserves all of her attention. Speaking of…

"Can I kiss you?"

Quinn smirks, making Rachel roll her eyes.

"_Fine_", she relents.

"_May_ I kiss you?"

Quinn nods her head in confirmation with childlike enthusiasm.

"Yes, you may", she grins, closing her eyes and puckering up like a five-year-old.

While laughing at Quinn's antics, Rachel silently thanks her for the moment of levity, though it's gone the second she moves in. She carefully pecks those invitingly pouty lips, waiting for Quinn to close her eyes before closing her own, getting lost in the feeling of finally kissing her wife again.


End file.
